


Hot Asphalt

by NettlesOfAviation



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Alex's patchy facial hair, Alternate Universe, Hitchhiking, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, One Night Stands, don't come here for smut cos i didnt actually write the naughty details of their one night stand, dunno why, got real sad at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NettlesOfAviation/pseuds/NettlesOfAviation
Summary: Miles picks up a hitchhiker for company.





	

**Author's Note:**

> haha yall be like where the fuck did "four" go and it's cause i wrote it on the whim and did not realise that i'm very incapable of writing something as large scale as it was supposed to be. however maybe one day i'll awaken it from the dead and actually write it, however have this instead : trucker!au with alex's patchy facial hair. 
> 
> also for this, lets pretend arctic monkeys never blew up and just became one of "those" indie bands you occasionally hear on the radio. 
> 
> this is really just me attempting to do more descriptive writing so laugh at my poor attempts to create beautiful scenery in your mind. i've never hitchhiked or even met a trucker before so sorry for any inaccuracies.
> 
> i listened to queens of the stone age while writing this. not sure if relevant. listened to "make it wit chu" on repeat when the kissing started ;) . gonna be a cliche am fanfic writer and reference one of their songs (black treacle) too.
> 
> edit 13/05/17 : made a cover for it on wattpad, but no one will really see it so here it is if you wanna take an ogle  
> [Here](https://68.media.tumblr.com/c2baba925c3c7704180ce1220a91208c/tumblr_opwwtdw3eP1sq7pm9o2_400.png)

Radio blasting loud enough to rupture an eardrum, Miles' truck peels down the hot asphalt road that trembles under the heat of the afternoon. His hand grasps around the cup holders until he manages to find his cup of coffee which he brings to his lips and downs the rest of the contents. The taste of cold coffee makes him grimace and a disgusting tang lingers on his tongue, the flavour of coffee which had been simmering under the sun for the past hours. His wandering hand reaches for the radio next, tinkering with the buttons and knobs until he finds the one that changes the radio station. The upbeat pop quickly shifts to the heavy thump of rock music and the volume makes his chest rumble with every vibration. That's more like it. Fingers tapping against the scorching steering wheel, Miles' lips mime the lyrics. He'd sing, but the croon of his own voice makes him shiver, even if he's the only person in the vehicle that would hear. The goods in the back rattle along with the beat and every ditch in the asphalt.  
  
He pulls his sunglasses off and tosses them into the glove box. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust but when they do, he's greeted by thick throngs of clouds drifting across a sea of gold and pink. A broad smile spreads across his face and he imagines the gust from the AC to be a gentle breeze. There's the temptation to roll down the window however he'd have to sacrifice the ability to hear the radio over the wind howling into his ear. His eyes flicker back and forth between the road and a map spread across his passenger seat. Blue scribbles litter the map, detailing where are the best places to eat and sleep. He's driven this route more times than he can count although all the flashing neon signs of motels are just blurs in his memory. Consulting the map once more, he decides to pull over to fill his tanks at seven o'clock then drive for a while until he finds a motel to settle down in, which'll hopefully be by eleven. Focused on the road again, Miles rolls his shoulders and sighs, releasing all the built up tension. It's just another day. Another delivery.  
  
In the distance he spots a figure standing by the side of the road. He blinks a few times, assuming it's just the mirage of the road playing tricks on his mind but as the truck nears, he makes out an arm extended and thumb sticking up. A hitchhiker. For a few moments, he debates whether he would like the company of a sweaty, dust-covered hitchhiker ruining the pleasant atmosphere of his truck. A couple kilometres away, he spots the silhouette of a guitar case propped up on the sandy shoulder of the highway. Upon the hiker's back is a bulky backpack, forcing the hiker to hunch over into an uncomfortable position. It'd be cruel to drive by. Miles flicks his signal lights on and pulls over, managing to come to a stop just by the hiker. He rolls down his window and the hot air of the Nevada highway invades the truck. The hiker smiles back up with a giddy grin, cigarette dangling from his lips and his skin glistens with the slick sheen of sweat.  
  
"Looking for a ride?" Miles smiles down but his eyes scrutinise the hiker's patchy facial hair that appears to be a poor attempt at growing a goatee. The hiker's smile widens some more. He seizes his bags, disturbing the sand and making clouds billow in all directions as he walks towards the passenger side, taking long strides. Miles helps him climb aboard and puts the dusty baggage in the back along with all the other bits and bobs littered on the passenger seat. "I'm Miles. Wha'bout you?"  
  
"Alex. Thanks for picking me up, man. Been trying to get a ride since this morning but it's 2017, no one picks up hitchhikers no more." The hiker answers back in an English accent and chuckles nervously, trying to tug his seat belt on. Miles cocks an eyebrow at the accent, wondering if it's authentic or artificial. "I'm from Sheffield, if you're wondering. Coincidence, innit? We're both from England."  
  
The truck continues down the road although with the radio turned down and an awkwardness makes Miles sit stiff and straight in his seat. He wonders if it was the right choice picking Alex up, or if he'd be more content in solitary. The swishing of water in a metal canteen fills the truck and he tries not to be distracted by the sound of Alex guzzling water in the passenger seat.  
  
"Sorreh. It's bloody roasting t'day. Didn't expect it to be so hot, and if I did, I would've brought more water." Alex says with a sheepish smile, screwing the lid back on. Miles hums in response, eyes trained on the road. "Not talkative, are you?" Miles shakes his head and Alex giggles then turns the radio up. "'M not going anywhere in particular so just keep driving until you want to kick me out. 'S alright if I take a nap?"  
  
Within ten minutes, Alex is asleep, slumped against the cool glass window with his water canteen cradled in his arms. Miles positions the rear-view mirror so he can steal a few glances at Alex's features. Particles of sand rest upon waves of dark hair like stars dotting the sky. Alex's untamed sprawl of hair holds the distinct shine of pomade although the gusts of wind from passing vehicles must've ruffled it more times than he can be bothered to re-comb it. Light hairs on his sinewy forearms stand  from the chill of the AC. Reaching back, Miles gropes around the seats for a flannel and drapes it over Alex then returns both hands to the steering wheel.

  
The sun skims the horizon by the time Alex awakens with his face nuzzled into the soft cotton flannel that smells of cigarettes and cologne. Half-lidded eyes glance around to find that the driver's seat is empty and towards his right, out the window, is the flickering glow of fluorescent signs. It takes some strength to push the heavy door open and he grunts softly at the impact of his fall then staggers a few steps. He spots Miles leaning against the side of the rig. His eyes are closed, arms crossed and smoke trails out from the gap between his lips that hold a cigarette. The crunching of gravel and sand under Alex's boots prompt him to open his eyes. They exchange shy grins and Alex inches a little closer so they're just a foot away. For Miles, he's content in the silence and basks in the sound of cars zooming by on the road and the jukebox humming from the diner. On the other hand, silence makes Alex itch all over. It seems that when he isn't sleeping, he has to be producing some sort of noise, whether if it's whistling or tapping his feet but from how stoic Miles is, he's unsure if it'd be appreciated.  
  
"How long have you been driving, Miles?" He asks, attempting to spark a conversation.  
  
"Seven years." Miles answers. "Why're you hitching, Al?"  
  
The nickname makes Alex grin and he hopes he doesn't look insane for smiling so much. He shrugs, running his fingers through his hair to brush it back. "Change of scenery, I suppose. I'm a singer, songwriter… musician? I don't know. Something along the lines of that. Ended a tour at the start of this year, dumped my boyfriend on my birthday then decided to hitchhike my way through America, spend a few days in each state.” He says and digs his heel into the parched earth, takes a long drag from his own cigarette then meets eyes with Miles again.  
  
“Why'd you dump your boyfriend?” Miles gives him an amused grin. “He cheat on you or something?”  
  
Alex cringes, almost grimaces then closes his eyes with an embarrassed smile. “No, nothing like that. God, not even close, no.” He mutters and stifles his laughter. “Well, we’re in the same band so it probably wouldn't've worked out to begin wiv. He's me guitarist. Real beefy, sexy, blond guy. Got nice arms and beautiful eyes. I couldn't help meself, so we ended up hooking up…”  
  
Miles vaguely has an idea of where this is headed, but wants to hear the story so he lets the brief pause drag on.  
  
“He wanted more. I'm the type of guy to give everything a try so I said why the fuck not? Had amazing sex but he had the personality of a brick . And I really can’t do commitment _._ Can’t commit to a full time job nor a relationship.” Alex sighs woefully and smiles, eyes turning towards the horizon where the sun is dying, just glimmering over the brink of the Arizona landscape.  
  
The watch reads twenty past seven and Miles’ cigarette is now a smouldering stub glowing in the dusk. Hot stagnant air makes a layer of sweat settle over his tanned skin, although as the darkness grows, it'll only get colder. His gaze follows Alex who strolls towards the convenience store of the petrol station, skinny legs taking long strides and he walks with a swagger like a rockstar, leather jacket adding to his facade. The patchy facial hair provokes a chuckle though, but Miles assumes it's because Alex doesn't have time to shave, not because Alex is actually trying to grow a goatee or whatever on earth it's supposed to be.  
Ten minutes later they're back on the road, sharing a bag of crisps and humming to the radio. Alex sings along to a few of the songs he knows, voice dulcet and smooth. The thick darkness engulfs the truck, pierced by two headlights that illuminate the empty highway as they cross the Arizona border to Utah. An urge to sleep arises in Miles, provoked by the night but he blinks away the tiredness and tosses back the coffee he got at the petrol station.  
  
“When was the last time you went back to England?” Miles asks this time, hoping a conversation will give him some energy.  
  
“Dunno, actually.” Alex takes a few seconds to think. “More than five years. Me parents are pissed at me, so I don't go home often. It's ‘cos I went off the hinges and dropped out of uni to be in the band and we aren't exactly world famous. I'm scraping pennies. Lot’s’a competition nowadays ‘cos there's so many indie bands, you get me? What about you?”  
  
“Last year for Christmas, but I prefer here, being by myself. Don't like the noise. So what's this band you're in?”  
  
“Arctic Monkeys. Funny name, but memorable.” Alex answers with pride. “Heard of us?”  
  
“Ah, yeah. On the radio a couple times.” Miles nods, recalling hearing the name a few times in the past. “Quite like it. It's unique. Like a mix of garage and psychedelic rock.”  
  
Heat flickers across Alex’s cheeks. “Thanks. People call it noise .” He laughs. “Can't make noise without getting kicked out so now I just do song covers or sing sappy love songs with the acoustic. As long as I can get enough dollars for a hotel room or a meal, I suppose. It's not like going back to the band ’ll get me any more money. Just about the same, I think, but it might be more fun to play with the lads again.”  
  
A silence settles between them. Alex stares out the window, up at the star-studded sky that glimmers. For a while he's enchanted with the breathtaking view. Miles shifts in his seat, keeping his attention trained into the road that stretches for ages on end. The cracked leather of the steering wheel brushes coldly against the calloused palms of his hand which have been clasping the wheel for as long as he could remember. He doesn't notice how much time has passed until he pulls up at a motel and glances at his watch which reads 9:55.

  
Like the petrol station, there's a fluorescent sign too that twinkles neon pink, advertising the motel’s name and the logo of a mudflap girl. A few trucks pepper the parking lot. Miles carefully maneuvers his own rig into a space. The both of them enter the motel and book a twin room for the night. Key card in hand, Miles leads Alex to their room. The door clicks open and they kick their shoes off by the door, relishing the plush carpet beneath their socked feet. A confused smile spreads across their faces at the sight of one double bed. Alex glances over at Miles.  
  
"Fink you said double room instead'a twin room, mate." He chuckles then falls backwards onto the cool, crisp sheets and he splays his limbs out like he's trying to make snow angels. "I don't mind sharing a bed." He cracks an eye open and grins up at Miles. "Don't worry, I won't touch ya. Unless you want it."  
  
Like a cat, Alex stretches out on the mattress with closed eyes, arms reaching as far as they can go and toes pointing downwards. His back arches into a steep curve, t-shirt raised slightly to reveal a stretch of pale skin and the bright red waistband of his underwear then he relaxes. For way too long, Miles stare lingers on him, taking in the view of dusty ripped jeans and a worn leather jacket upon Alex's lithe figure. He looks away and moves towards the french doors that lead to the small balcony, thumping his pack of cigarettes against the heel of his palm to pack them well. "I'm gonna have a smoke, relax for a bit then go for dinner. You could join me later, hm?"  
  
A smile lights up Alex's face. "Aye, I'd love to." He responds almost immediately then gives him an embarrassed grin. "How about I take a shower now then we go for dinner?"  
  
"Sounds good."  
  
Stepping onto the balcony, Miles is greeted by a cool gust of air which he breathes in, letting his chest expand all the way and shoulders heave. It takes a few attempts to light the cigarette but he manages and takes a long drag. The acrid smoke fills his body with a warmth, makes his head buzz and fingers tingle. A vehicle zooms by with its engines roaring, headlights blinding and leaves the scent trail of diesel. Miles' eyes follow the light until it becomes a pin prick of white in the distance. Soon it's just him and the glow of his cigarette, a few miles outside Mona, Utah. The loud crackling thunder of a motorcycle makes him tense, it's powerful vroom resonating within, even after it had passed. Miles savours the silence and his cigarette, feeling the breeze against his scalp. He runs his palm through his buzzed hair then sighs. A thick wreath of smoke snakes out of his ajar mouth before fading into the black treacle night. He stubs out the cigarette then flicks it away, turns on his heels and enters the hotel room where he lounges on a flattened armchair until the sound of water crashing against tiles ceases.  
  
Alex emerges from the bathroom, shaven and his hair slicked back to reveal a widow's peak that makes his face look somewhat heart shaped. He passes by the arm chair to retrieve his jacket from the bed. Miles catches a whiff of shower gel, minty and fragrant. He studies Alex once more who resembles a rock star more without the sparse stubble. Alex chews on his bottom lip, muttering to himself as he counts how much money he has left, eyebrows knitted and his breaths steady.  
  
Miles gets off the armchair and gives his shoulder a brief squeeze as he passes by. "Let's go. I can handle the tab if you don't have enough money." He offers as he steps into his shoes. "C'mon, Al." He smiles before the lad can protest, insist that it's fine despite having less than twenty dollars.  
  
They make the short walk to a greasy diner just by the motel and take a seat in the booths by the window. A tired waitress takes their orders then disappears into the kitchen for a long while. Alex, being a naturally chatty person, glances up at Miles every few seconds, trying to select a topic to talk although when he goes to speak, the words become trapped at the back of his throat. His clammy palms press against the cracked leather seat of the booth, leaving a moist hand-print when he reaches for his soda. They decide to talk about England for a bit, reminiscing about their grey-skied childhoods and the times when Freddo's didn't cost a disgraceful thirty pence then share their reasons why they're here in America. Miles shares his story to Alex who gazes back up like he's staring at a starry sky, a dopey smile stretched across his face and he chuckles at parts that don't seem funny at all.  
  
"Dunno, I think you're quite handsome." Alex smirks back after Miles makes some sort of comment on his own appearance, head propped up by his hand while his other grips a steel fork, picking at his fries. It takes Miles a second too long to join the dots. Alex is flirting. Footsies under the table didn't seem to get the message through, nor did Alex's flushed red cheeks. Miles doesn't have to debate whether he's charmed by the singer or not.  
  
There's a change in Miles demeanour which shifts from being painfully absent to coy. He returns with a broad smile and eyes dart down to Alex's lips that are full, pink and tempting. "You think?" Miles chuckles, earning a giggle and a nod. He pulls out his wallet, tosses enough money to pay for their meals and a generous tip. "Let's go back to the hotel, 'm tired." He stands. They stroll towards the doors, boots tapping against the patterned tile and the bell jingles when he holds the door for Alex. Thrown back into the quiet night, they walk abreast, shoulders bumping although it's Alex's every intention to get as close as he can.  
  
The white glow of fluorescent tube lights attract them to the convenience store stationed near the motel. Miles waits outside whilst Alex goes in to buy a few things. With the last of his money, he buys a six pack of beer, cigarettes and just about manages to afford condoms. The rustle of the plastic bag fills their silence on their walk home but their glimpses at each other communicate their unspoken desires which Alex doesn't try hard to hide. A tension lingers in the air like static. They settle on the plastic lawn chairs on the balcony, taking swigs of their beer as their eyes scan the vast darkness beyond. Once in a while, headlights zip past and choke them with the foul fumes. Alex plucks the courage and leans his head against Miles' bony shoulder to which comes no reaction, just a rustling of fabric and Miles produces his pack of cigarettes. Clink! Then there's the low growling scratch as the flint wheel spins, producing a spark which lights a wavering flame. The light is strong, illuminating their faces. Miles teases in the end of his cigarette then allows Alex to light his too. He smells the distinct scent of Alex's menthol lights, it's mild minty scent giving him a gentle high.  
  
And they stay like that for what seems to be an hour or so. Miles opens his eyes when he feels Alex's hand sliding up his inner thigh, delicate fingers tracing the tough seams of his jeans. From the dim light of their room that rests on their faces, he can make out the careful yet lustful look Alex gives him. There's a twinkle in the warm brown eyes that blink back. Their foreheads bump and Alex's chapped lips brush against Miles', planting a hesitant kiss. A sudden movement provokes a soft gasp from Alex but he relaxes into Miles' firm touch cupping his cheek, his other hand grasping at Alex's wrinkled collar. Their kiss quickly evolves into feverish making out, hands exploring and grabbing desperately. Alex moves forwards and straddles Miles' lap, hands coming to a rest at Miles' nape, just brushing his buzzed hair. A fleeting sensation makes Alex's entire body tingle with excitement. His heart thumps heavily against his chest at a million beats per second and he swears that he might pass out any second now. He smiles, clinging on as Miles picks him up and stumbles drunkenly back into their room.  
  
The french doors slam shut. In an instant, Miles' lips are back and they're abseiling down Alex's neck, leaving trails of splotchy hickies. Desperation hindered by clumsiness, Alex gives up undoing the buttons on Miles' shirt and opts for a more unorthodox approach, pries open the shirt which sends buttons pinging across the room. Miles doesn't seem to mind, in fact, it only fuels his longing and he peels off Alex's tight jeans then gropes greedily at the thickness of his thighs and his ass.  
  
"Oh god, I need you." Alex cries, breathless. His eyebrows furrow upwards, face contorted with bliss and pleasure as Miles' hand dips between his legs, feeling at the tender flesh. "I fucking need you now."  
  
By two in the morning, Miles is sure he's heard every lewd noise and dirty word come from Alex. The high pitched squeak of the bed springs still echo in his mind over the sound of his blood pumping in his ears. Alex untangles himself from Miles and staggers towards the open bathroom, body slick with sweat. The tap runs for a few minutes, cool water trickling down the gurgling drain before he emerges from the bathroom smelling of toothpaste.  
  
Tousled hair falls over his face. Miles brushes it back and pulls Alex close so they can share their warmth under the thin duvet draped over their bodies. His lips curve into a smile when he feels Alex’s breath tickling the crook of his neck, his sinewy arms wrapped around Miles’ side.

“You're gorgeous.” Miles says for what could possibly be the fifth time now and he presses a kiss onto Alex’s forehead, admiring the drunken grin across his face. “Night, Al.”

Alex hums and murmurs something incoherent in response. As the minutes pass, his breaths grow deeper and slower. Reaching over, Miles flicks the bedside lamp off and allows himself to be dragged into a slumber by his own fatigue.

 

It’s not an usual morning for Miles. For the first time in a long while he’s woken up to someone’s arms wrapped around his side, felt warmth from skin, not from sunlight. It’s definitely something he can get used to, although it’s ten o’clock. He must be back on the road by twelve. With not much time remaining, he gently shakes Alex awake and kisses him good morning. It seems almost as if last night had never happened. Alex returns back to his giddy, chatty self and doesn’t talk about what occurred during their raunchy affair.

Breakfast is served greasy and silent with a side of shy smiles and the occasional game of footsies which Miles partakes in. Alex apologises a dozen times when Miles pays for their meals _again_ , then flushes red when Miles reassures him with a broad smile. “My pleasure, Alex.” He says, captivated by Alex’s smile which could light up the entire world. The butterflies in his stomach go wild when he looks at him.

By twelve, they’re back on the road, tearing down the roads of Utah with the radio blasting. Alex sings along, occasionally giving Miles a look to which Miles shakes his head, afraid to sing despite being encouraged to. He can’t remember having this much fun on the road and to even believe at one point he might’ve regretted picking Alex up back in Nevada. An unnerving feeling settles in his chest as they cross the border of Utah and into Wyoming. It only gets worse as they near Rock Springs where Alex planned to get off since Wyoming remains unexplored for him.

The truck pulls up by a petrol station in a busy town in the afternoon. Alex’s stop is here. No one moves. Miles is tempted to ask if Alex wants to stay, but knows the answer will be no. Glued to the passenger seat, Alex waits a few minutes, eyes resting on Miles as he awaits for the request to leave which never comes. With sagged shoulders, he retrieves his bags from the back and pushes the door open, letting in the warm air.

“I’m probably gonna write a dozen songs about _this_ . Maybe several albums.” Alex jokes, chuckling. Then his smile fades and he gives him a profound look. “It was really fun, y’know, being wiv ya. I’ll miss you, Miles.” He says, his tone earnest. A painful sensation skips across his chest and causes his throat to tighten but he musters a bittersweet smile. His soft palm cups Miles’ stubbled cheek and he leans in close, lips ghosting over Miles’ then presses a delicate kiss. Miles kisses back firmly, hands reaching to grasp at Alex’s crisp white shirt, to hold him closer and never let go. He tastes the menthol on Alex’s breath and runs his fingers through Alex’s thick pomade-slicked hair. _Just hold on_. Alex pulls away. “You’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” He laughs then carefully steps out the truck onto the hot black of the parking lot. “Maybe we’ll meet again some day. Come to a concert or somethin’, or just pick me off the road again, yeah?”

Miles gives him a tender smile. “See you, Al.” He nods. The bang of the door slamming felt almost like a slap, it’s stinging pain almost making him tear up. Heel pushing onto the gas, he speeds down the road and avoids looking at the mirrors, not wanting to see Alex’s figure shrink as he gets further and further away.

Solitude has never felt worse.

To rid his mind of all this, he turns the radio up and finds himself singing along. He distracts himself with the prairie blue skies that are void of clouds and sips on foul, cold coffee. Nothing he does can erase the emptiness within, so he pulls over at the next petrol station he sees and buys a pack of menthols to preserve his vivid memories of the rock star. After consulting his map, he has his day planned out and figures he’d be able to finish the delivery tomorrow where a company waits for the farming equipment rattling in the back of his truck in Nebraska. With a cigarette dangling from his lips, Miles keeps wondering why on earth he never asked Alex for a phone number. Perhaps they both forgot, or Alex never reminded him because he didn’t want to get involved in a relationship. Miles recalls their conversations then sighs, wanting to slap himself for getting so tripped up over a one night stand.

The humming radio plays out a familiar beat and the rhythm of the drums sparks a few memories. "Arctic Monkeys, ladies and gentlemen." The radio presenter announces then there's brief discussion about their past albums. Alex's dulcet voice echoes through the truck and for a brief moment it felt almost like he was in the passenger seat, crooning to the radio whilst basking in the afternoon sun. 

He rolls his shoulders, stubs out the cigarette and takes a deep breath. The tension remains. _Just another day,_ he tells himself and focuses on the long stretch of black wavering asphalt ahead.


End file.
